


Ghosts that we knew

by ShariAruna



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Post Episode: s04e13 Journey's End
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:25:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShariAruna/pseuds/ShariAruna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Smith snores in his sleep. It's something so ridiculously human that Rose can't bring herself to be mad at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts that we knew

John Smith snores in his sleep.

It's something so ridiculously human that Rose can't bring herself to be mad at him, even if she's dead tired after a long day of work, and even if at this very moment she really, really wants to lay down and rest for as long as possible before starting all over again.

Unfortunately, saving the Universe those four or five times doesn't seem to come with this kind of privilege.

Sighing, she goes to the bathroom and puts on her pajamas. When she returns to the bedroom, she sits down on the edge of the bed and stares at her companion (as she usually, half-jokingly refers to him, in spite of Jackie's insistence that the two of them finally get married).

John is sprawled all over the mattress, his damn long legs and his damn long arms invading her side of the bed; his hair's a mess, as usual, and once again he has drooled on her pillow. And he's still snoring, of course.

Smiling, Rose watches his chest rise slowly, following the rhythm of his heavy breath. It's almost hypnotic. He seems so quiet and peaceful. And... yes, human. Again. It never ceases to amaze and worry her, and sometimes ─ like _this_ time ─ it makes her feel on the verge of tears.

Because she remembers when things were different, and when the man laying in her bed was no man.

She remembers the Doctor.

The _Doctors_ , actually: the old one and the new one, Rose thinks. Then she scoffs at herself. There is just _the_ Doctor, ancient and eternal. Hopefully.

Still, now she closes her eyes and recalls both of them.

Her first Doctor, with his black leather jacket, his gentle smile and his old, rough hands. How much time had slipped through his fingers? She can't even imagine. But she knows her second Doctor better, doesn't she? Because his first laugh, his first adventure, his first battle... He shared all these things with her. All his firsts. That's something big, isn't it? Something that can make you fall in love with a person. Like she did. Like he probably did.

And then _he_ moved on without her, and _she_ moved in with John Smith. Life, that's it.

She cries now.

John's still snoring, and she has to clap a hand over her mouth because she doesn't want to wake him up. He wouldn't understand. Or even worse, he _would_ understand. And he would definitely be wrong.

She's not crying because she misses the Doctor. She's crying because she _doesn't_ miss him. Or at least, she doesn't miss him as much as she used to. And she knows that's sad and ungrateful, yet she can't help but feel relieved when, after slipping into their bed and curling up against John's side, she feels him stretch out his arm to hug her.

"Everything all right at work?" he asks, with a sleepy voice.

"Peachy," she replies, wiping her face and laying her head down on his shoulder.

"What about Jackie?"

She groans and he laughs quietly.

"Okay then, tomorrow I'll make pancakes for you."

"But you make horrible pancakes."

"Oi! I just like to experiment!"

"Well, do not experiment with my breakfast again," she says, yawning. "Now let me sleep, will you?"

John doesn't answer; he just gently strokes her hair.

"You looked sad, five minutes ago," he finally says.

"You looked asleep, five minutes ago," she retorts.

"It was snoring investigation."

"...What?"

"I wanted to know what my snoring sounded like."

"Oh," Rose replies. And then she laughs loudly against his neck.

"What?" John asks, frowning.

"Nothing, really," she manages to answer after a while, still chuckling and wiping away fresh tears from her eyes. "You sound like a warthog, by the way. Now please, shut up and let me sleep!"

John mutters something about getting his revenge with poisoned warthog-shaped pancakes before he finally shuts up.

And Rose falls asleep smiling. As usual.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my lovely beta [LostInWho](http://www.fanfiction.net/u/4282482/) :)


End file.
